His head slipped lower and lower and soon he fell asleep on Death’s lap.
“He’s dead,” the people said, when they looked in the carriage. “The famous Doctor Martin is dead! Oh, what a great and good man he was! Alas, who can take his place!”
He was buried with great pomp and all the world mourned his death.
His son, whose name was Josef, was a stupid fellow. One day as he was going to church, his godmother met him.
“Well, Josef,” she asked, “how are you getting on?”
“Oh, pretty well, thank you. I can live along for a while on what my father saved. When that’s gone, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Tut! Tut!” said Death. “That’s no way to talk. If you only knew it, I’m your godmother who held you at your christening. I helped your father to wealth and fame and now I’ll help you. I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll apprentice you to a successful doctor and I’ll see to it that soon you’ll know more than he knows.”
Death rubbed some salve over Josef’s ears and led him to a doctor.
